


The Favored Son

by BearWritesThings (Halaani)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Deer Gods, Fantasy Creatures, Fantasy Typical Violence, Fate Can Go Jump Off A Cliff For All Adam Cares, M/M, Magic You Fools, Not-So-Crazy-Dragons, Prophecy, Seven Morons Go On a Quest To Save Everyone, Surprise Virgins, Temporary/Percieved Character Death, brief depictions of torture, crazy wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halaani/pseuds/BearWritesThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam never wanted this. Why on earth would he want this? Prophecies and tetchy elves and endearing, yet terrifying wizards are the very least of his worries. On top of all of that he was to balance an over protective Knight who he may or may not have feelings for, impending doom for his homeland and a wizard and his pet dragon who want to grind his bones into dust.</p>
<p>And did his dog just talk?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So updates are going to be a bit weird on this one. My work schedule is all over the place for the next few weeks, so new chapters will come somewhere between every other day or have a few days between.

Once upon a time, in land far away in a land not that unlike our own, there sat the prosperous kingdom of Roosthia. Presiding over this wonderful land was the kind and beloved King Burnie and his Queen, Ashley. Their lands were sprawling and fertile and their people happy. But all was not well in the land of Roosthia, for on the farthest eastern horizon, guarded and hidden by the jagged Hower Mountains, there dwelled a man.

But this was no ordinary man, oh no. For this man was Crimen, a wizard of darkest intent, of most horrific ambitions and accompanied by a creature most terrifying, whose name sent even the most hardened knight scurrying for cover.

Daragor, King of the Mountain.

Together, for the last five years, Crimen and Daragor had swept through the lands and other kingdoms surrounding Roosthia, razing fields of crops to ash, rending the flesh of farm animals and smashing homes and buildings to rubble. They killed knights and civilians with impunity, set fires and plagues on stores so that those who survived their attacks would starve and left only destruction and tragedy in their wake.

King Burnie was worried, of course, as it seemed that Crimen and Daragor were making their way inexorably closer and closer to the kingdom and Burnie was at a loss. How was he to stop a wizard and a dragon guarded by magic most foul? Night after night he fretted over it. He considered making underground stores to protect their food supplies, thought about having his own wizards place wards around the kingdom but most were unfeasible. He'd just begun to think about going outside the kingdom to request help when one of his seers, a young man named Miles, had come to him in the middle of the night, in such a fit he'd almost called for Healer Risinger.

He'd made it a rule, long ago when he first started as King, that if his seers ever needed to talk to him they were to be allowed to see him at any hour no matter what he was doing. That didn't stop his, totally manly, shriek of surprise when his door banged open and Miles was stood there, dressed only in his linen pants, hair askew, obviously roused from sleep. "Miles?!" He breathed out and the man nodded furiously.

"Burnie, Burnie. I saw...I saw Daragor. And Crimen. They were here and the castle was _burning_ but then there was a man and a sword and..." Miles shook and Burnie darted forward, grabbing the smaller man and easing him into one of the chairs. Ashley had gone and summoned a guard to fetch one of the healers and was now taking one of the clean clothes on her dresser, running it through the cold water near the door and pressing it to Miles' forehead. Now she stood by with a piece of parchment and a quill, ready to take down anything Miles might say so that they'd be able to go back over it later.

"Miles can you remember anything else?" He pressed gently. This was the first solid lead they'd had in the past five years on the issue, the burgeoning problem that was Crimen and Daragor. If Miles had had a vision, then they needed to get to the bottom of it as soon as they were absolutely able.

_"Eyes of earthen brown...and arms like quarried stone...the favored son sleeps softly now with his soul as true as bone. With jagged wing and frozen spell the scourge besets us now and take heed, my king, as they wish to ruin the crown. Take heart, O' warriors and those true of blade, the favored son runs swiftly now through mountain, field and glade. He'll gather allies 'round him, six men of purest heart, and the favored son roars loudly now, and he'll surely do his part."_

Ice flooded the king's veins and the others shifted in shock behind him. They'd been in the company of a seer as he made a prophecy. That was a rare thing and one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed upon a person, as it spoke of a great trust for that person to not misuse the information. Miles had fallen unconscious and slumped back in the chair and Burnie chewed his lip. "Knight Taylor, please accompany Healer Risinger with Seer Luna to the medical wing and remain there with him until further notice." The young knight snapped a salute before gently, deceptively so considering the heavy plate armor he wore, picked up the young seer and followed the healer from the room.

"Get me Advisors Sorola, Heyman and Hullum. This won't wait."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

King Burnie stood over the planning table, the map of Roosthia and its surrounding countries and lands spread out before him. Around the table, in various levels of awareness were his most trusted advisors. On the table itself was a silver tray of coffee, imported from one of their outposts in the far west, with cream and sugar that a servant had brought in and the copy of Miles' prophecy that Ashley had written down was pinned to the edge of the map with a dagger. There was a heady sense of excitement in the air but also a fear that they couldn't quite shake. 

Miles' prophecy was the first break through they'd had but there was every chance that they may not be able to find the person described in it, therefor rendering Miles' predictions useless and possibly heralding the end of their kingdom. "Brown eyes and strong arms doesn't give us a while lot to go on, does it?" Gus Sorola asked, taking the cup Matt Hullum, the most senior of the advisors, offered him. Not that any of them could argue with him. Any of the farmers or craftsmen or even some of the merchants could be described as such. 

"You say Miles thinks he remembers what the man looked like, from the dream?" Joel asked, uncurling from around his cup of coffee to look at the others. " Burnie nodded his head, taking his own cup in hand. 

"He woke up a for a bit up in the medical wing. He only had a few flashes, during the dream, but he remembers a face." Joel nodded and set his cup down. 

"So have him walk around the town and the village until someone looks familiar. Have Knight Taylor accompany him, out of armor of course, or nothing will get done and when he recognizes whoever it may be, station a guard on them under some guise until a proper plan of action can be founded and started." There was a moment of silence around the room before Burnie chuckled.

"Joel if this is the kind of thinking you can get done this early in the morning, I'll start waking you up before the sun rises."

His only response was a dark glare and a pair of deep chuckles.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Burnie sat in his office, reading over the reports that his scouts had brought him from their foray to the southern lands. It had been about three weeks since the night of Miles' prophecy and today they were starting on the last section of the outlying village. Miles had yet to discover the person matching the man from his dream and the advisors and those that had been present for the night of the prophecy's telling were on edge, even as they avoided it with those who hadn't been there. It made no sense to get everyone riled up over something that may yet not actually work.

There was a knock on his door and Burnie looked up, rubbing his face. "Come in!" He shouted. The guards must have deemed them safe enough, if they weren't being announced. The heavy oak door opened and in walked Matt, the advisor looking like he was just restraining himself from bursting into dance, a smile plastered on his face. Burnie raised a brow and sat back in his chair, waiting to hear whatever news had the other man so excited.

"A messenger just a arrived from Sir Taylor and Seer Luna." Burnie flashed his own grin. That could only mean good news, because if they continued to be unsuccessful they wouldn't have bothered with a messenger. Matt nodded and handed over the scroll Burnie was only just now seeing and he removed the ribbon, unrolling the parchment and reading it under his breath.

"The blacksmith's apprentice? I he certain?" He wondered allowed. He'd met Master Wagner and Apprentice Kovic before, when they'd done work for the castle to aid the royal blacksmith. Both were well liked and well respected in the village and in the town, and everyone spoke exceptionally highly of the young apprentice. But Adam could best be described as a gentle hand, not one most would see shoulders deep in battle with a swinging sword and a battle cry. Could Miles have made a mistake or was there something hidden deep inside the younger man that they had yet to see?

Burnie settled back into his chair as he carefully planned what would need to happen next. He'd need to contact Master Wagner, arrange a knight to watch over the apprentice and then from there he wasn't really sure. Should they send him outside of the kingdom for safety? Should they bring him to the castle and let him reside within its protective walls until there was a better plan of action? Would they just have to wait?

He decided to take it one step at a time and, for the time being, summon Master Wagner and the knight that was going to guard Adam. And he had just the man in mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You can't be serious! You want me to babysit the blacksmith's apprentice all because you think he's some be all end all savior. Instead I could be out with the others patrolling the mountain pass or even going with Jeremy to the Bragg's in the west ahead of them sending their bolstering forces and their banquet for midsummer!"

The king rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing softly to himself. He should have foreseen the man wouldn't be happy with the new assignment he had been given, but there was little to be done about it. He always prefer his Knights speak their minds with him, but there were times he wished that he hadn't allowed it. Just sometimes.

"No, Sir Willems, I'm not kidding. He'll be more comfortable with you than any of the others. Your charge is to watch over the blacksmith's apprentice, Adam Kovic, until such a time I either withdraw your guardianship or some such other plan is enacted. I've already spoken with Master Wagner and he has agreed to allow you to reside in their home until further notice. While Master Wagner is aware of your true purpose there, Sir Willems, Apprentice Kovic is not. As far as he is concerned, you are merely there to guard the smithy from a band of roving criminals until further notice. We're going to keep it that way." King Burnie rose from his throne and descended the steps until he was standing in front of the forlorn looking knight.

He placed his hands on the man's pauldrons and smiled warmly. "Don't be sad James! This is a great honor you've been given. If Apprentice Kovic is who we think he is, then it will be you who helped usher him into his full potential and power. And I think you'll really like him. It will be fun!" James grumbled but nodded his head in understanding, blue eyes sharp with a mixture of thoughts and emotions. Burnie could tell he still wasn't happy with the assignment but he really was the best choice out of the others. He was only a year older than the Apprentice and, when he wasn't glum over undesirable assignments, it was like being the in the presence of a particularly happy puppy dog. Chuckling gently he twirled back around and climbed the steps to his throne, settling himself comfortably.

"Go and gather what you will need, Sir Willems. A squire will have your mount ready and waiting for you." James opened his mouth to say something before Burnie cut him off. "Of course, your hound will be waiting as well." James seemed to take a small measure of happiness that Benson, his hound, would be allowed away from the castle with him.

James thumped his breast with a gauntleted fist and then marched away, murmuring under his breath about babysitting duties, but the king was far too amused to be upset about James' complaining.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted the first chapter of this a while back and received positive feedback about it, so I’ve been writing this on the back burner for a fair while. However, in my infinite wisdom, I began to rewatch Merlin, the spark was lit and this is my main project now. I have several chapters already written, so expect updates every few days for the time being.

There was indeed a squire waiting for him at the gate of the castle proper an hour later. James had gone to his room just long enough to gather a few underclothes, some sleeping clothes, his armor and weapons maintenance supplies and a few of his snacks that the chefs liked to sneak him before he left for missions. The kennel master had dropped Benson and his supplies off with the squire and the dog greeted him with a happy bark. Benson wasn’t an attack hound, but he was excellent for guarding and alerting James and the hound often came with him when he was going to sleep outside of the castle or an outpost to act as an early warning system.

Thanking the squire he strapped his pack to the horse and settled himself into the saddle and sat back. “C'mon boy. Let’s get down there so we can get this over with.” Benson gave a happy bark and wag and James gently steered his horse away, setting into an even trot.

The Iron Sickle, the village’s blacksmith, was in the outlying village that lay outside the grand stone wall that surrounded the castle and main town. It was large and clean, with two grand forges and many neatly ordered piles of ore and metals, ready to be worked into tools and weapons and utensils. Mostly they did work for the farms and craftsmen who lived in the village and the surrounding forests, though it wasn’t completely unheard of for the merchants in the town to outsource to the Iron Sickle.

He knew it well enough, even from a fair distance. They owned a large plot of land, Master Wagner and, by default, his apprentice did. On it sat the shop, the forges, their home and a small farm where James knew they kept horses for delivery and a few chickens and cows for sustenance.

The house was new enough, James could remember a few knights had been hired out as part of a favor to them a few years ago during the building raising and James figured it would be clean and homey, despite the two bachelors living inside. When he pulled his horse to a stop outside of the smithy, he hopped down and grabbed his mount’s reins, leading her inside the gated lands, Benson trotting by his heels.

“Hullo, Sir Willems! I wondered when you’d be coming.” James looked up to see Christopher Wagner unbending himself from over his forge, white beard stained with soot but a wide smile on his face. “Bring that horse of yours further in and we’ll get her put up for the night. Then I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” James favored the man a smile and did as he was bid, following the older man further inward.

While he wasn’t happy he’d been assigned to what was essentially babysitting duty, he couldn’t deny he liked Master Wagner. The older man was a common fixture around the royal blacksmiths during high order times, or just for fun as both men were dear friends and the man was jolly and good at what he did. There was a stall for his horse and James took his time to untack her and feed her.

He hadn’t ridden her hard, but the horse was thankful for his care and he was ready to rest himself. “This way, lad. You look like a mug of ale wouldn’t do you wrong.” James couldn’t deny that and he followed the man into the house. It was indeed a clean and homey place inside. It wasn’t opulent, but there were little notions of comfort here and there. Wagner showed him a room where he could settle his stuff, and he was even more grateful when he saw an armor stand inside so he wouldn’t have to leave his armor on the ground, and he shrugged out of his plate armor, leaving him in his knee length mail hauberk and his leather boots.

Downstairs James sat at the hand made table as Master Wagner set a large tankard in front of him.

“Long ride from the citadel, Sir Willems?” He asked kindly, settling across from him with his own tankard and a plate of small apples, which he set in between them. James drank deeply. It wasn’t the fine aged ale from the castle but it was still good and he savored it. He hated riding in the heat in full armor at this time of year.

“Not a long one, but a hot one.” He deflected gently. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but he still was anything but happy with this assignment. Master Wagner smirked, as if he knew why the man was falling back on his manners from training and took a sip from his own mug.

“You know, when I got that messenger from the King, I was certain it was some kind of prank. After all, I love my boy to death but he’s not a fighter, balks at it honestly and that’s not a bad thing, after all he’s a skilled craftsman and no one would dare risk him in a battle, but that didn’t make me any happier with the situation. Destined to slay a dragon and fell a wizard. Like something out of a bard’s tale, isn’t it?” His sharp green eyes met James’ and he smiled wider. “But, ‘lo and behold, I get to my audience with His Majesty and he’s sat there with his closest advisors, a Seer and a Knight, all looking rather grim faced. They were serious, of course. My son, my Adam, destined to save the kingdom. Of course I wanted him protected.”

Here the man set his stein down and grabbed an apple, biting into it with relish. “The Kings said to me that they’d devised a plan. After all, no sense in getting Adam all riled up when they were only mostly sure, even if they agreed wholeheartedly that he needed to be protected. The King turns to me and he says he’ll send one of his best and brightest to me, knows just the Knight for the job, but he won’t like it. Won’t like it one bit and he’s like to give me trouble about in his own way. Sassy, I believe was the word used.” James gaped in offense and Master Wagner laughed, a great booming sound that rocked off the walls of the house.

Slowly though, he turned serious, face falling into lines that made him seem his actual fifty-five years, his green eyes clouding over with emotion as he stared softly into his apple, setting it aside as he turned towards James. “I know you didn’t want this assignment, that you’d prefer to hand it off to someone else, but that boy…that boy means the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him ever, even after I’m long in the ground. For you to be out here, willing to protect him, it means more than I can say.”

Now, James wasn’t a terribly humble man usually, he was tall and good looking and an excellent Knight and he knew it, so he tended to strut and hold his head high. As much as he didn’t want this assignment, he hadn’t bothered to think what it would mean to Master Wagner for him to come out and protect his apprentice, the man Wagner had raised and trained to carry on his legacy after he passed away, the man Wagner had come to care for so much. And then it hit him. Wagner had called Adam his son. Wagner preferred the company of his own gender and his husband had passed of sickness a few years ago, and so Wagner had never taken a wife to bear him children. So where had Adam come from?

Filing that away as far too personal to ask on his first day, James instead sipped placidly at his ale for a moment before moving the subject on. “Where is your apprentice? It’s kind of hard to protect someone who’s not even here.” Wagner shook himself out of his melancholy, scratching his beard and taking another bite of his apple.

“He’s out making a few deliveries to Armony and Reign, south of here. I don’t expect him back until much later, if at all tonight. It’s supposed to rain, so I told him to stay at an Inn or Tavern if it looks like the storm’s going to get bad. No sense getting his horse or the wagon and oxen stuck in the mud. You’ll go with him after today, but we didn’t know when you were going to get here, and those villages have been waiting for those orders long enough.”

Master Wagner gave another hearty laugh though as he chucked his apple core out of the open window into what James assumed was the slop bucket. “Of course, there’s plenty for you to do around the forge and farm when there’s not deliveries to make. Knight Captain Dunkleman said I should keep you occupied.” James pouted, even as Master Wagner boomed with laughter again, finishing off his ale before rising to his feet to light the candles.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

James slept soundly in the bed of his guest room, Benson sleeping in front of the door in a little ball. The bed was almost as comfortable as the one back in his room at the Knight’s Barracks, and the coverings were fur and wool. At sunrise he woke with the rooster, and the shuffling from further down the hall indicated that Master Wagner had awoken as well. He didn’t bother with his chainmail hauberk, instead only his linen clothes and leather boots. He milked the two heifers while Wagner slopped the hogs and fed the cows and then Wagner led the animals out while James ran the pump to fill the water troughs. They ate a hearty breakfast of side meat and boiled eggs before heading out to the forge, Adam still nowhere to be found. James had to admit he was thankful the forge itself was covered because the rain was coming down in sheets and visibility was low for the fog that had rolled in overnight

For the morning James was put to work fetching water and tools and metals while Master Wagner worked at a small order of farm tools that were up first. The rain eased off around mid-morning, and they were drawn out of their working haze at the sound of hooves in the mud. Coming towards them at full tilt was a large black horse, with a cloaked figure perched atop it, hunched in an effort to protect themselves from the rain while what James thought was a dog sprinted at his side. James watched as the horse drew up to the gate and slowed to a walk, plodding into the compound.

He sat pensively for a moment, but Master Wagner had already come forward and grabbed the horse’s reins and he was beaming. “I wondered if you’d come back today, Adam.” The cloaked figure removed thier hood to reveal something James was absolutely not ready to deal with. The man, Adam, was stunning. In a completely unfair way where he was equal parts rugged and gorgeous. His black hair was matted by rain and his beard dripped with water while his brown eyes surveyed the compound. His jaw was strong, his shoulders broad and his arms thick. James had to tamp down on a flash of inappropriate thoughts as Adam swung out of his saddle and settled onto the ground with a loud huff.

“I almost didn’t. The roads from there to here are knee deep with mud and Sorens got stuck more than once. Poor Mattimeo had to swim at some points it’s so deep.” He growled, reaching down to scratch at the ears of the black and brown shepherd dog at his heel. “I’m sorry dad. I’ll have to go back once the roads are dried out and get them, but I gave Shay some coin to put the oxen up and I emptied the cart before I left.” He apologized as he hugged himself tightly. The storm had brought unseasonably cold winds and, despite his thick travel cloak James could tell the man was soaked through.

“Don’t worry about it son. No one will be expecting deliveries in this weather, and Shay’ll take good care of them.” He ruffled Adam’s hair despite his protests and pushed him towards the house. “Go and get you and Mattimeo dried off and something warm in you. I think there’s some stew from last night left over and I brought a keg of mead up from the cellar. Sir Willems and I will tend to Sorens.” Adam’s eyes grew wide as he turned towards James and the Knight was sucker punch again as he got a proper look at the man. Oh this was just mean. No one should look that good fresh out of riding hard in a rain storm.

“I’m so sorry Sir Willems! I didn’t mean to ignore you. I’m so thankful that you’ve agreed to come out and protect the smithy for us. I worry about my old man when I’m out.” James could help the tiny inkling of unhappiness that shot through him when he noticed that a note of uncertainty had leaked into Adam’s voice, at the fact he’d fallen back into formality and he’d hunched in on himself and turned his head down and away. Behind him, Master Wagner shook his head, imploring the Knight not to draw attention to it and James nodded, instead falling back on the smile a few of the Knights had joked would charm his way into a miser’s purse, all blue eyes and dimples and warmth.

“Don’t worry about it man. Why don’t you go get warm, yeah?” He coaxed, gentle and Adam gave him a tiny bow and a shy smile before he scarpered for the house, his dog at his heel. James followed Master Wagner into the stable and helped him untack the horse and while the older man began caring for the saddle and bridle and reins James started cleaning and brushing the horse, which had begun to happily munch on the hay in the stall. They worked in companionable silence for a time before Master Wagner spoke.

“It’s not you, Sir Willems. My boy’s never been comfortable around Knights, not since I took him in. They scared him outright for the longest time, couldn’t get him to step foot in the castle until he was nearly sixteen and even then he kept clear to himself, only dealing with the Knights when he had to. Won’t tell me why, and I respect that. But please, don’t be upset if he’s shy around you.” James stopped from where he was brushing a tangle out of the horse’s mane and he felt turmoil in his gut. This assignment just seemed to be getting weirder and weirder, and he’d only been here a day. But he continued his work as he spoke, vowing to himself to get to the bottom of the mystery presented to him.

“I won’t.”


	3. Chapter Three

James was five weeks into this assignment, and he was about five seconds from committing regicide. Oh, don't get him wrong, Master Wagner and his apprentice were warm and friendly and hospitable, and Adam had warmed up to him after the first two weeks but the man was the biggest tangle of confidence and self-consciousness and tics James had ever come across in his long time.

When it came to dealing with customers, Adam was all smiles and laughs and easy conversation. The customers loved him and Adam had not only charmed his adoptive father's customer base, but already gathered his own. Four of them stood out the most though, mainly because James had sworn they were security threats the first time they'd visited they were so out of the ordinary in the smithy. 

The first was a young Dwarf, his beard not quite grown out but old enough to live on his own whose name was, off all things, Spoole. Spoole came in once a week to get new digging tools and odds and ends, a standing order that Adam looked forward to filling and the two would always spend an hour or so chatting about everything and nothing until the Dwarf would load his purchases, mount his pony and ride away to the range of mountains to the north. The second was an Elf, tall and delicate of feature who Adam affectionately called Joel. James had called shenanigans on that name instantly, because no way was an Elf called Joel of all things, and the Elf had whirled on him and primly informed him that, in the time it would take James to learn to pronounce his real name, they'd have all long been dead. Joel came for odds and ends, but mostly for arrowheads for his bow and arrows.

Lawrence, a wizard of some renown who lived on an estate to the east by about a dozen miles visited quiet frequently. Apparently, despite being accomplished in the study and use of magics, the man had a terrible habit of destroying cauldrons, stirrers, ladles, knives and scales by the dozen. There was a standing order for the man, which he picked up every Friday morning personally. On those days, Adam left the forge for a few hours in the afternoon, to train in the arcane arts with the wizard. Because the land of Roosthia was so steeped in magic, it was far from uncommon for children to be born with minor magical gifts, such as the ability to levitate small objects or create sparks. Most never got past that fledgling stage, even with training, but the training was important to control their gifts no matter how small, and basic arcane training was a part of all schools. 

Adam was particularly adept at the nature schools of magic and the wizard, his father and yes, even James, took great joy in watching small patches of flowers and herbs blossom around him during these lessons. Lawrence was positive, despite his skill in the nature schools, Adam would never progress much further than an ability to help small things grow, heal minor wounds, and talk to animals on a basic level. It was more magic than James had, which was to say that James had no magical gift of his own at all. The last was a Wildling named Bruce, part man and part bear, who lived in a small cottage to east, near to the wizard's place. He came far less frequently than the other three, more closely to the schedule of a "normal" customer, but Adam's face still lit up when the man came. He usually sought farm tools and arrowheads, but was more than happy to spend a few hours talking idly with Master Wagner and Adam while lending a hand to fetch and carry.

All of them were wary of James' presence at first- after all what would a royal Knight be doing in a smithy?- but after Adam had supplied them with the story he'd been told, they were more than happy to tolerate the other's existence at the compound. 

But that wasn't all, oh no. Every day was something new with Adam. Kind, gentle Adam who, despite his gruff exterior and shyness, was one of the truest most humble men James had ever met. And James worked for an order who followed a code of chivalry. James found it extremely unfair that the man was equal parts gorgeous to look at and fun to be around. In other circumstances, he'd been the kind of person James would try to court properly. And no full grown man with beard and shoulders like that should be so unashamedly adorable. Sir Elyse, one of his dearest friends among the Knights, had come to visit him just a week ago, sat with him in the courtyard of the compound into the wee morning hours drinking ale, and listening to her friend go on and on about how his manliness was going to vanish because he was certain his charge was several puppies in disguise. Small fluffy ones.

First it was the freckles, and the different colored neckerchief that he wore bound about his neck, hiding it from view. It lent him a soft, innocent look that James struggled with, especially when he smiled full and bright and his eyes did that little crinkle thing that had endeared him to the Knight. Then, it was the loving way he treated Mattimeo, his own dog, and Benson and his horse, going out of his way on a daily basis for treats and extra pets and loving words. On one occasion James had come outside to see the big man sitting on an upturned apple crate, feeding table scraps to stray kittens. After that he'd had to go out back and slash his sword against a tree for an hour, just to feel like a man again. 

This man wasn't a fighter. He was a lover, and a skilled craftsman, and he knew how to defend himself with sword and pike both yes, but James couldn't see him killing, even in a war. And that wasn't a jibe against him. At this point James wanted to join Master Wagner in his crusade in protecting Adam from this prophecy, but there was little he could do. Once Fate had chosen someone, it would never let them go. And that's why James hated this assignment, hated the King for giving it to him, because he was going to have to sit there, in the background, and watch Adam's innocence die in the glint of bloody swords and a gout of flames.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Dad, I'm going to the Chantry! Are you alright for the day?" James looked up from his breakfast at the sound of soft feet on the stairs, and he grinned a little as Adam came into view, wearing different clothes than usual. Instead of his general attire of cotton trousers, black linen shirt and leather boots and apron, Adam was dressed in a loose gray linen tunic and pants, his neckerchief a slightly darker gray. It had been three months since James had been stationed at the Iron Sickle and he was as good as a permanent part of the house at this point.

"Going to go and trawl the taverns, Adam?" He teased gently and Adam huffed in quiet disapproval before he smiled gently.

"It's Gerhon's holy day, Sir Willems. I'm pretty sure Druid Winters would murder me if he found me in a tavern today." He reminded gently and James subsided a little with an apologetic mumble. Adam took very few things in his life as serious as he took his father, their business and his Patron Deity's holy day. It wasn't that Adam was fanatically religious or anything- he said his Chant every morning before the Stag effigy in his room and he observed the holy day- it was merely that Adam's Deity had great meaning in his life. James still knew nothing about Adam's life before he was taken in by Master Wagner and even afterwards was still hazy to him, but judging by the fact that Gerhon stood for Compassion, Charity, Generosity and Kindness to your Fellows, James could only guess that none of it was good at the start of it.

"Your dad's outside, Adam. I think he went to saddle Sorens for you." Adam thanked him and slipped on the simple reed sandals of his vigil outfit and bypassed breakfast on his way out. He wouldn't eat until after services, and he would hang around in town talking with others who observed the holy day of Gerhon or simply enjoying himself, seeing as it was considered sacrilegious to work on your Deity's holy day. Through the window he watched father and son embrace warmly in the dawn light, and then Adam mounted Sorens and set off at a slow trot, Mattimeo nearby. The dog would likely sit in the stable with the horse while Adam was in services, and then he would stay with him the rest of the day, leaving James without anything to do on that front. Adam was safe as he could be in the actual walls of the town, unlike the smith that lay in the village outside them, and with the town so near the citadel itself, there would be plenty of Knights to watch over him.

Instead of guarding, James went to work with Master Wagner, today holding beams while the blacksmith used the two-handed sledgehammer on the glowing metal. For a time, they worked in silence, only taking short breaks to drink from the bucket of cool water between beams. They worked for an hour past noon before Master Wagner called the last beam finished and lay it in the stack with the others. "Come on inside, Sir Willems. I think we've both earned a cool mug of ale and a good meal." James smiled and wiped his face with one of the clothes that were scattered about for that purpose.

Inside they piled plates with fruit and cold ham and a hunk of cheese and filled steins with cold ale before settling at the table. James had barely taken a bite of his cheese before he was speaking. "How did you adopt Adam, Christopher? He never mentions it..." He trailed off, nibbling at his cheese awkwardly. Since he's settled into the house in the mast months, he'd been gaining little snippits of his charge's life before his arrival in the form of visitors and friends and items he owned. But Adam's childhood and the reason he never took his neckerchief off in anyone's presence were still a mystery.

Master Wagner gazed at him searchingly for a moment before he set his food down. "A long time ago, I promised I'd never tell anyone unless I thought they needed to. Honestly, I was waiting for you to ask, since it may have some impact on this prophecy." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I found Adam when he was four. He was a scraggly little thing, bone thin and almost wild, him and that dog. I'd heard stories, of course, of the orphan child and his mutt, a dog too intelligent to be just a dog. People in the town and village would see just glimpses of them, around a street corner or behind a building, and they'd be gone, like they were never there to begin with. One night a chef followed the dog after it stole a few strips of dried meat and an apple of all things, in the dead of night. Found Adam living in the hollow of tree with nothing but a few tattered scraps of blankets that no one would have used and some damp hay."

"No one could get him to leave that hollow, even as winter started approaching, and many gave up on him, claiming that if he refused help he deserved to freeze. Not all of us agreed though. We could see that something had happened to him, that he just needed to be coaxed, needed to be encouraged. So we brought him food, we brought him blankets and clothes and clean, dry hay to line his hollow. Emily Granger, who then taught and still teaches magic at the school, created a small bluefire flame in a jar to keep him warm and Lady Porter gifted him his first neckerchief when we noticed he always hid his neck from view." He smiled softly.

"At first, when we came to visit him he wouldn't come out, but we would leave our gifts for him and little notes and we would find little flowers pinned to our doors a few days later. Eventually he started coming out to greet us. Never spoke a word, not once, but sometimes he would smile and wave. When spring came around Lady Porter, then with her first child, would come sit with him in the grass and read to him. It was she who first noticed Adam's brilliance with nature magic, but when she brought it up, he grabbed his neck, actually screamed- the first sound he made in our presence- and hid in his tree for a month. Wouldn't come out for anything, and the dog became vicious about protecting the hollow as a whole and not just the tree." He snorted. "Not a normal dog indeed. Emily Granger is still sure he used to be a warlock's pet that had chosen to protect Adam after his warlock passed away instead of passing on with his master and spelled for longevity, which would explain his almost unnatural intelligence and how he's still alive and spry twenty-one years later."

"We were more cautious then. We never mentioned his magic again, never tried to look at his neck and eventually he started following me into town. Me of all people. For while he would simply sit in the smith and watch me work, or he would follow my husband into the woods and help him gather herbs. He always seemed to flourish in the woods, but he also came to love the forge and he was good at it. A time came where he never wanted to leave at the end of the night. For Winter Solstice of what we thought was his fifth year, I offered to take him in and let him work around the forge or continuing to help my husband. From there, it was a natural progression to apprentice and then, eventually, to my son. We filed papers with the royal census on Adam's eighth birthday, making him our son in everything but blood. It took years for him to become a healthy weight, and until he was almost fifteen Adam would only speak to us or his closest friends, and even then it was only a few words at a time."

"It's taken twenty three years since I took him in, James, to get him where he is now. I fear what this prophecy will do to him, if it's anything but nonsense."


	4. Chapter Four

Adam smiled from his seat in the saddle on his horse, smiling and waving at children as he made steady headway to the Chantry. It was the Harvest Festival, and things were in full swing. The streets of the town were filled to bursting with people and games and food and music could be heard no matter where you were in town. He was wearing dark tan cotton pants and a cotton shirt, his leather boots were newly shined and his crisp new emerald green neckerchief was soft against his neck. He was grateful for the change in weather, cold enough for harvest to have come and gone but warm enough he didn't need more than his thin woolen travel cloak. 

Behind him, dressed in full plate-and-tabard, James rode far less happily, his white mare tossing her head in accordance with her rider's sour mood. At least Benson and Mattimeo shared Adam's jovial mood, dancing playfully around and between their two horses, barking and sometimes ducking into a crowd of children and teenagers, rousing a cheer and laughter from them before they returned. Thier destination was the Chantry stable, where Adam and James could put up their horses and go to enjoy the festival. Adam turned back to his counterpart and laughed. Someone had thrown confetti and streamers over him, and the colorful decorations hung off his armor and stuck in his hair.

"You know, James, you didn't have to come, right? I'm gonna be fine, and it's kinda hard to guard the forge when you're with me and I'm nowhere near it." It was a pointed jab, sure enough. He knew that he'd been told that the Knight was there to protect the forge from roving bandits, after all it wasn't that far-fetched a tale considering there had been greatly increased bandit activity since last Spring Equinox, but the Knight spent too much time with Adam for that to be the full truth. Deliveries, trips into town- sometimes even on Adam's trips to service at the Chantry- and even sometimes just trips further into the village. It made no sense, none at all, and Adam was only a little frustrated that his dad hadn't told him the true reason for the Knight's presence in thier home. He could understand his father needed to keep some secrets, but it was a little ridiculous. 

But he had a plan. Bruce, Lawrence, Spoole and Joel always came to the Harvest Festival, and he was going to slip his babysitter and meet up with them to sit on the town wall and drink elvish wine which tasted so good it more than made up for the lack of alcohol in it. They got to the stable and Adam made quick work of untacking Sorens, scratching under the stallions mane like he knew the horse enjoyed. Once he knew James was done with his own horse on the other side of the large stall, he double checked to make sure he had his coin pouch, which jingled loudly with coin he'd saved up for this festival, and that his cloak wouldn't fall off before he edged towards the door of the stall. He had to be perfectly positioned for this to work properly.

"So!" He exclaimed, watching amusedly as the Knight fairly jumped out of his armor before turning sharp blue eyes on him. "What are you going to do then?" He asked, edging just the little bit closer to the door he needed when the Knight cocked an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean what am I- ADAM!" He laughed brightly as he meshed fluidly into the crowd, his nondescript clothes only aiding in the process. He made sure to move as naturally as he could for a few minutes, making sure he'd lost his minder before he broke off to one of the food stands. He bought a few meat pies and some sweet fried bread and scurried off to the walls, where the others were already waiting. They climbed up the ladder, not even remotely the only ones with this plan as it was a harvest Festival tradition to drink on the walls, and they found a spot large enough to fit them all and they climbed up. Food and wine was spread around and soon the stories started. For a long while they joked and laughed and drank and ate, watching they performers and the people below them. As dusk fell Lawrence and Joel conspired to to make a small show of thier own, Joel conjuring little rocks into stardust and Lawrence coloring them and causing them to spark and change shapes. While the two magic users made shapes the other three provided voices and songs, most of them highly inappropriate, soon others who'd been sitting on the wall were ranged behind them, laughing and applauding their performance. 

Eventually, dark had long since fallen and the reverie was beginning to wind down and they clambered off of their spot and began heading down into the town. They hadn't intended on going home, all of them living too far from town to make the trip over and over again during the week of the festival. The other four had rooms at an Inn nearby, but the stall at the Chantry had a loft above it and Adam had packed a thick blanket and a few changes of clothes, and he would just be one of many sleeping in the lofts above thier stalls. Down in the square below they bid each other good night and Adam was warm and full and happy as he climbed into the loft with his blanket.

As he drifted away into restful slumber, he never noticed the cloaked figure hovering in the door, it's eyes glinting meanly in the full light of the moon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days passed in a haze of drink and food and games, and Adam enjoyed the time away from work. His dad always closed the shop down except for emergency orders during the big festivals and the longer small festivals so Adam had stayed in town. He saw a few of the shows, nearly tripled his silver and gold in a surprising streak of luck at the dice and won several trinkets from the games. All in all, it was an excellent festival and, come the last day, Adam felt as if he was fairly glowing with the joy of it. The next one would be in a few months, at the Winter Solstice, and Adam and his dad generally stayed home for part of that one to exchange gifts and spend time together, but he looked forward to it nonetheless.

He'd managed to shake his escort for the entire festival, much to the annoyance of James and his own amusement and on the final day, the Knight sat unhappily in the saddle of his mare, watching as Adam spoke warmly to his friends as they climbed onto their own mounts to leave. Granted, they made a bit of an odd picture, the Wildling with his ram mount and the Elf on his hart, standing between a horned horse and a bay pony. But Adam was smiling and James was willing to wait, smiling softly at his charge.

"You know he likes you, right?" Adam flushed darkly and swatted Bruce's shoulder, the man's round ears twitching with deep amusement and his pointed teeth glinting in the sunset. 

"You can just shut the hell up right now. He does not." He hissed and the others just chuckled light-heartedly as they exchanged handshakes and back pats. "Look, ride safely. It's supposed to be co-" Adam was cut off sharply at the clang of bells, deep and thrumming, and the crowd seemed to stop moving, turning towards the citadel. It wasn't the time of day where the bells were supposed to ring so that could only mean nothing good.

"Attack! Daragor flies over the southern end of the village!"Adam blanched, ice in his veins. The forge was in the south, his home, his dad. The others had turned towards him and Adam ignored them, spinning on his heel to throw himself into down the street towards the stable where Sorens was tied. The people were screaming, running to and fro, and he only just heard James' voice over the melee, begging him to come back, to wait for him. But Adam wouldn't be stopped.

He forcibly untied Sorens' reins from the post and jumped into his saddle, already spurring the horse on. People scattered out of his path and guards screamed for him to stop, but he shot through the gates, Sorens' hooves kicking up dust. Crimen and Daragor had never yet dared venture so close to the kingdom, let alone the citadel, but even now, still three miles out from the villages' outskirts, he could hear the screams and the terrifying roar of the dragon, could see the flames licking into the sky and smell burning buildings and even flesh. He barely tamped down on his own scream as the dragon swooped low, horrible and large, a searing gout of flame smashing into a stone watch tower, toppling it. Sorens screamed, that grating sound of a horse's terror and bucked, and Adam shouted as he was thrown into the grass, his mount streaking back towards town. 

Adam groaned as he staggered to his feet, his hand clicking and already swollen. Broken, then, in the fall. But he couldn't stop. He was so close to the forge, could see even from here that the forge was on fire, likely the whole compound. He snagged the bridle of a villager's dray mule, left to wander and bray fearfully in the street, and swung himself up. There were no reins and no saddle, so he tightened his thighs and slapped the rump of the beast, spurring it on. Its gait was nowhere near as smooth as his stallion's, but the beast was fast and they ate up ground. His chest tightened and he couldn't help the tremble in his hands as he forcibly pulled the mule to a halt outside the compound. 

It was on fire. All of it. Everything his dads had ever worked for was in flames. The barn. The stables. The forge. The _house._ Everything was bathed in orange fire and a plume of black smoke hung oppressively in the sky, turned purple in the dying light. "Dad! Dad! I swear to Gerhon if you've up and died on me when I'm done screaming I will bring you back just to shake you and let Lady Porter have a go at you!" His voice cracked and trembled, something terrible settling over him. Only silence met him and he choked on a sob. 

"Dad!" He bellowed, wading into the compound and dodging falling debris. "Dad come on!" He cried desperately. He stood, panting, listening intently. There! A soft cry, almost drowned out by the roar of the flames, coming from the barn. He must have been tending the animals when the dragon attacked. He forced his way through, kicking and pushing aside burning detritus, ignoring the searing agony the actions brought in favor of coming to kneel in front of his father.

"Foolish boy! Get out of here before we both burn!" Adam rolled his eyes at his adoptive father, taking stock of the situation. He was covered in soot and a little singed, but the problem seemed to be he was trapped under a smoldering rafter, his legs pinned and one bent at an unnatural angle. In order to free him the rafter would have to be moved. 

"Yell at me later, when we're not in danger of burning to death or being smashed by the timber of our own barn!" He coughed, smoke already settling in his chest. He'd have to yank the rafter up and then get his shoulder underneath it to move it completely. He grabbed the beam, an agonized howl leaving him as his flesh began to burn and his breath choked on a sob as he lifted.

_"Gerhon, who spreads love and charity, guide me. Gerhon, who lends compassion and generosity, steady my hand and show me peace. Gerhon, who cherishes all his sons and daughters, ease my dreams. Gerhon, he who is free of enmity and of hate, sooth my wounds, give me strength and shine your light on me."_

He tried to take refuge in Gerhon's Chant, but the timber was a screaming brand of heat and pain as he braced it on his shoulder and arm, using all of his strength to toss it away. His head felt clouded and he staggered, some animal part of him roaring at him to move, to escape, and he shakily bent down and tossed his dad, now unconscious, over his unburned shoulder. The scent of his own burned skin was almost too much, and instead he turned his efforts to staggering out of the compound. No one had come yet to help them. Was the dragon still there, circling the village and making it impossible to send aid? Or did they think no one would be the compound during the attack?

With a great heave he stumbled into the dirt of the road and lay there panting. His burns and broken hand ached and he turned his soot and tear stained face into the dirt, a soft series of sobs leaving him as he floundered for a minute, broken only by the rattle of his breath in his chest, the chesty coughs of his father and...what was causing that sound? Adam turned over and his heart sank. Daragor was sweeping close, angled straight for them, and Adam could see a shadowed form perched on his back. 

The dragon meant to crush them, either under his fire or his weight, and his wizard meant to watch it happen.


	5. Chapter Five

Adam lay still in the dirt, resignation and fear churning in his gut. The dragon was moving too fast for him to move them both out of the way, especially in his injured state. They were going to die. Here in front of the flaming remains of his and his father's home and livelihood, they were both going to die. He clinched his eyes shut as the dragon neared them and turned his face to the sky, stuttering through Gerhon's Chant under his breath again. Closer, closer and he could hear the sounds of the wizard's laughter. He took in a final breath, relaxed his muscles and... the ground shook.

The dragon hand landed, mere feet from them, his ruby form fairly sparkling in the moonlight as his shadowed master gracefully descended. Adam had read plenty of books as an older child, and once he'd traveled with Lady Porter to the furthest southern beaches to see Helios the Custodian, Dragon Guardian of the Gleaming Cities, but seeing Helios couldn't have prepared Adam to come face to face with Daragor. Daragor stood some thirty feet tall, at the least, and longer from nose to forked tail tip than eight ox-and-cart teams laid end to end. His scales were bright ruby and gleaming, and his eyes a most piercing silver. One fang poked out from his lip and his black claws were easily half as long as Adam was tall, and grand silver gnarled horns branched from his head. There was intelligence in those silver depths, and something like sadness and rage battling as he shifted he great bulk.

"Adam Kovic, Adopted Son of Marcus and Christopher Wagner, Born of Whitest Snow, True Son of Gerhon and...Prophesied Slayer of myself and my companion here. Well, if that wretched seer up at the castle is to be believed." The voice was that of a man, low and gentle that trailed off into a chuckle, as if he were amused instead of angry. There was a low murmur and thick cords wrapped around his neck and arms, dragging him without mercy through the dirt, mindless of his injuries until he was being forced to kneel before the shadowed man, arms bound tight against his side. The wizard had the end of the cord from his neck in hand, grinning. Adam fought through his pain to try and get a good look at him.

If he weren't evil and holding Adam literally on the end of a leash, he would have been the kind of guy girls would have chased and Adam would have appreciated. He was maybe a few years older than him, early or middle thirties if he had to guess, with silken black hair that fell to his shoulders and gleaming emerald eyes. Red sigils and runes could be seen inked into his pale skin, and he wore only a pair of pants and a pair of boots, showing off a toned stomach and chest. He looked eerie and deranged in the shadow cast by Daragor, and Adam sucked in a breath best he could but it seized in his throat because of smoke and the cord wrapped around his neck, sending him toppling face first into the dirt.

Surprisingly gentle hands grabbed his shoulders and levered him up, and Adam spread his knees a little to get a better stance, turning his gaze on the wizard. "You know, Adam, Fate would have us fight until one of us is dead. But I have a distinct advantage here, as I'm sure you can guess. A "wizard of great power" I believe I've been called. And you're just a blacksmith. And that's nothing to be ashamed of normally, but in this context, it puts you a little out of your field doesn't it? And I have a dragon. Big advantage, that." Adam panted but didn't dare struggle, not while the wizard was still holding his shoulders, fingers so near his neck and thumbs tracing his collarbones in a manner that deeply unsettled him. His wounds were agonizing, but the wizard's touch was gentle and Adam turned his head up at him as he spoke.

"I don't want to fight with you, Adam. I'm sure you're a nice young man, devoted to his father and town and livelihood." Here he snarled and his fingers closed harshly on Adam's wounds, pressing until Adam screamed, trying to bend double and writhe away, but the wizard held him firmly in place. "I want what is mine! Do you hear me, boy?! This land, this kingdom and all that surrounds it should be mine! No one will stand in my way! Not the kings, not their armies and not some whelp, chosen by something as pointless as a prophecy!" He roared and Adam's cries were cut off violently as the cord around his neck tightened as the wizard hissed something.

As soon as the anger had come on it was gone, and Adam whimpered softly and flinched away when a gentle hand cupped his cheek, forcing him to look up. "I'm going to undo that cord, and offer you something. Speak out of turn and I'll kill your father and finish torching your village tonight, and I will return every night until even the citadel is in flames, do you understand?" Adam nodded frantically and the wizard hissed a spell, causing the cord to fall away completely, though the one that bound his arms remained.

"Do you know my name, Adam?" He whispered and Adam nodded meekly. "Tell me. What is my name?" He ordered and Adam floundered. He couldn't understand this man. Why was he holding him captive, demanding these things of him when, if he really was a man of prophecy, he should have just killed him? "Answer me, Adam, before I lose my patience." 

"C-Crimen. I've heard them c-call you Crimen." He rushed out, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the deranged man's anger again. Crimen smiled and patted his cheek again.

"Good boy. Now listen closely, because I will only make this offer once. I don't want to fight you, Adam. I would rather leave you alone. After all, taking over kingdoms requires a lot of time and patience and careful political maneuvering, so who has time to worry about Prophecy and Chosen Men when offering deals is so much easier? So I give you a choice. Swear your allegiance to me and I will keep you by my side, like a favored advisor while I rule and I will spare as many lives as possible. Your father and his business will be left alone, guarded even, and I will spoil you with anything and everything you've ever wanted. Or simply leave and show yourself never again. Flee from Roosthia and leave me to my work, and your father will, again, be left alone and I will spare as many lives as I am able."

Crimen leaned forward his voice went low, threatening and his grip on Adam's wounds tightened again just enough to the point that Adam whined a little. "Defy me or conspire against me, Adam, and I will raze everything you love to the ground, turn it into ash and all the people you love? Your father, Lady Porter, Emily Granger, your friends and even Sir Willems. I will make you watch as I dismantle them all. I will make you witness as I remove everything that makes them the people you love and I will enjoy it." Adam went still, the half formed images Crimen's threat brought to his mind too much.

"I'm going to give you a parting gift, and I will fly away. I will make no move until you do. As I promised." Adam shook, pain and exhaustion and fear making him useless as Crimen reached behind him and undid his neckerchief despite his half-hearted protests, surprise fluttering across his features when Adam's neck became visible. "He who bares the marks of hardship indeed. They're old. You've had them a while." Adam turned his face away in shame as Crimen's fingers drifted over the skin of his neck. Crimen whispered a quiet spell and Adam felt something like silk wrap around his neck. "My mark. All will be able to see, but, on its own it's a benign thing. Quite striking on you, I do say. We can use it to...come to an understanding, as it were. I cannot read your mind, so let that fear be set at ease. And if you should choose to swear your allegiance to me, it will become so much more." 

He tied Adam's neckerchief back around his neck with deceptive gentleness and stepped back. "I will leave now, as I have promised, and I will not return until you have made your choice. Your neighbors will be here soon, and you and your father will be rescued." Adam watched as Crimen ascended back onto Daragor's back, settling down with ease. "Be well, Adam Kovic, True Son of Gerhon, He Who Was Born in Whitest Snow. We will meet again."

As Daragor and Crimen vanished into the night sky, Adam felt the cord bound around his arms vanish and he collapsed to the ground with a gurgle, darkness consuming him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"How is he?" Jon looked up from the younger of his two patients, frowning softly at the King. It wasn't the older man's fault, but he'd asked to be left alone until he came forth with news. Jon had been horrified when the villagers had brought them in, both men covered in soot and cuts, their breathing a ragged, rattling sound that was almost like a death knell. Their friends had brought them in, laid side by side in the back of a cart while a procession of people followed them, looking disheartened and battered and a little worse for wear. Leading them had been Sir Willems, blue eyes wide and lost, and while Knights had rushed to get them on stretchers at Jon's orders, Sir Willems had swept into the throne room, presumably to give a report. Jon had instantly called for Healer Salcedo, he'd need help for this without a doubt, and they'd set to work. Mariel had gone to work on the older man, able to tell that it was the lesser of the two sets of injuries and that her gentler healing magic would be sufficient, leaving Jon with the younger patient Adam.

The man was a mess, and Jon had paled as more and more injuries had been revealed. A broken hand, cuts and lacerations half cauterized from flaming debris, deep burns on one of his arms and across his shoulders and on his hands, and deep bands of bruising around his neck and chest, as if he'd been bound. He'd set to work, but even his strong healing magic could only do so much for the young man. He could remove the bruises and heal the hand and sooth away the cuts. But the burns...the burns would take days and days of healing. And portions of them looked as if they'd been scratched and moved on purpose, almost as if to torture the man.

"He will live." He started, chewing on his lip. "He breathes easier now, and the other injuries have been taken care of, though his hand will likely ache during the worst storms. The burns though, Sire. They'll scar. Not even my magic will prevent that. I will do everything I can so he has full motion, but the skin will heal slowly. He was tortured. Someone pressed on the wounds with the sheer intent of causing him pain, and it worsened them. For now, he will need sleep and medicine for the pain. It will be days before he wakes, most likely, and that is good. It will give me a chance to heal him and for him to sleep through the worst of it. But Sire, there is something much more pressing. The villagers....they saw the dragon standing over him?"

The king nodded gravely. "Yes. We have reason to believe the person they saw talking to him was Crimen." Jon bit his lip and rose to his feet. Master Wagner had awoken earlier, and begged them to keep Adam's neck covered unless it was absolutely necessary to reveal it, for the sake of his son, and Jon had agreed, having sent to the laundry for a clean neckerchief for his patient to wear. He had been desperately worried about his son, asking after him repeatedly as Jon worked until Mariel had convinced him to take a sleeping draught so she could work on setting his leg, promising they would give him updates on Adam as they were available. Now he carefully undid the neckerchief to reveal what had him anxious. 

Wrapped around the apprentice's neck was a wreath of runes and scrawled markings, in a deep gold that stood against his skin in such a way they'd never be hidden without his neckerchief. "It goes all the way around Sire, like a collar. I've sent for our best Arcanists, to see if they can decipher it but..." He trailed off and instead went about refastening his patient's neckerchief, refusing to draw attention to the other marks underneath. "I believe they've asked the wizard Sonntag to stay and decipher the marks." He sat back in his chair and turned towards the King. "It will help, as well, that they're friends. If Crimen has said something to him, he may be more inclined to disclose it to someone he knows."

The King nodded and sighed. "Keep me informed, Jon." Jon gave a soft nod, intoned a quiet "I will, Sire" and turned back towards his patient as the King swept out of the medical room. For the night, he would sit up with his patient and try to keep the worst of the pain at bay.


	6. Chapter 6

"No, no no. I don't care. You're not going by yourself!" Adam tossed his good arm into the air, sighing in deep agitation. His nerves were already worn thin after a morning being poked and prodded and moved about while the royal tailor fitted him for a complete new wardrobe- something Adam would have fought against had he not been assured that all of the displaced villagers were receiving the same treatment as him- but his meeting with his friends had quickly devolved. As soon as they'd adsorbed Adam's retelling of his frightful meeting with Crimen and Daragor and the wizard's ultimatum they instantly began to think of a way to help him.

That was, until Adam declared his intentions to leave the kingdom and operate against the wizard's machinations on the run. There had been a split second of silence before the table erupted into a cacophony of thier denials against his plan, begging him to rethink it. But Adam wouldn't be moved, and then had come the beginning of thier plans to join him on his journey. No matter how they bickered back and forth, well past both lunch and dinner and down too many mugs of watered wine than they usually indulged, neither party could be swayed to the other's thinking.

"Adam." Joel's voice killed the noise at the table, and everyone turned to look towards the other man. His black curls were mussed from running his hands through them in stress and his pointed ears red at the tips from drink and yelling. "Adam you can't expect to take on a wizard, a dragon and a whole army of terrible beasties alone. You can't think it will work. We love you to death, but you won't stand a chance. You need someone to watch your back. Someone to help you fight or read the map or fix your injuries or cook the food. We can do that. We're saying this in full awareness that some of us might very well not return. We want to be able to help you, to go with you. Don't you see?"

Adam lowered his arm and looked around that table, biting his lower lip as he gazed at each of them in turn. At Bruce's kind eyes shining with affection and determination, at Spoole's chin jutting out in defiance of Adam's refusal, at Lawrence's squared shoulders and stern face and Joel's imploring face and open desire for Adam to understand. Adam sighed, shoulders slumping and as he rubbed his hand across his face. 

"Alright, alright. You'd probably just follow me across the kingdoms anyway if I tried to leave you behind." There was a loud cheer and Adam rolled his eyes in fond exasperation at them. "Idiots." There was no denying the affection there and Adam hefted himself up from his table, stumbling a little as he did. Watered down or not, they'd each demolished a fair amount of wine in the hours since thier get together started and it hit him hard now.

"Come to the castle tomorrow at the third evening bell. We can plan in my room. I'm spending the morning and noon with my dad though." The others nodded thier understanding. This time, instead of thier usual handshakes and shoulder slaps, each rose from the table to hug him warmly or ruffle his hair, and Lawrence took a minute to incant a quiet spell, and Adam watched with glee as a golden stag, leaping through winds and leaves, stitched itself into his deep red neckerchief. The red one was a gift from Healer Risinger, one of three the man and Healer Salcedo had gifted him, and it had quickly become his favorite to wear.

Saying one last good night, Adam left the inn and headed back to the castle, intent on sleeping well for the night, as the reality of his plan sank in. As soon as his arm was fully healed, and all the supplies were gathered, they were going to ride out against a wizard and his dragon and an army of creatures and people that would try to kill them at every turn, without remorse. In less than a month his life had taken a complete turn. He only hoped it wouldn't be one of the last.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Adam stared down at the list on the table before him. It was long, written in Joel's small neat scrawl. It was everything they'd need to gather, from dried meat and cornmeal and flour and lard and other staples to flint and steel and sewing kits and whetstones. And that was merely the beginning of the seemingly infinite list. Adam had briefly wondered aloud how they were going to get all of this packed on just thier mounts before Lawrence scoffed in mock offense, pointing out that his shrinking charms were top notch, and that he could fit hundreds of pounds of supplies on thier mounts without taking up much more than two saddlebags each. It would just take him awhile, as he planned to write them on inscription tags and store magic in them so any of the party could undo and redo them without needing him all the time.

Which was fine, all things considered. In the time while Lawrence was inscribing and charging the shrinking charm tags, the others would focus on gathering the supplies themselves and Adam would worry about keeping the King and Knights off thier backs. Joel had told him the Elves would outfit him with a proper blade once they were safely out of the King's purview, so Adam merely had to worry about getting cloaks, one thick one for the coming snow and one rain cloak of treated leathers to go over top and a few other traveling supplies he hadn't owned, even before the fire. Adam had gone to the vaults, where he'd been holding his gold since he started earning commissions at sixteen, as well as different monies from festivals and bets and name days, and he had plenty of money to get high end cloaks of wolf fur and elk leathers, sure to keep him warm in the coming winter.

"Adam." Lawrence's voice startled him out of his thoughts and he turned towards where the warlock was sitting at the far end of the table. "You said that Crimen was covered in sigils, right?" Adam nodded his head, a violent shiver running through him. He would never forget the blood red markings inked into the mad wizard's skin. "Draw them for me?" He asked and Adam quirked a brow but nodded agreeably, taking the quill he was offered. He sketched out a rough human form and then painstakingly began to draw what he'd seen. When he was finished he looked up to see that Lawrence had gone pale and Joel's face was drawn unhappily. 

"What?" He asked, self-consciousness arcing through him.

"The markings. I've seen them before. The Elders warn us of them, of what they mean." Lawrence was nodding gravely in agreement with Joel, fingers tracing over the marks in horrified fascination. The others were unsettled by the reaction of the two magicals.

"What are they?" Spoole asked, setting his mug down on the table and turning wide eyes on the Elf next to him.

"They are...they are the marks of a pact. A pact with Kodamium, the disgraced Deity of Death. No mortal weapon can kill him. To make a pact with Kodamium....hundreds of people would have had to die to make the sacrifice to even summon him, let alone please him so he would offer his protection." The table as a whole sat there, stunned and Adam felt despair well up inside of him. If no mortal blade could kill him, how could he help anyone?

"Seven years ago, the city-town of Assan in the west...it was wiped off the face of the map. Nothing was left but ash and stone splinters. Not a single person survived. It was some twelve hundred people." Bruce's voice was rough as he gazed into the distance. "My Clan was traveling through the Forest of Vantar to come settle here when we found the destruction. I helped take the message to King-Consort Patillo at Achievement City."

"Twelve hundred men, women and children? He would have been pleased at the death count, and the promise of more in a bloody war would have more than made him interested in Crimen." Lawrence shook his head.

"There's a way to get around the pact. It won't be easy, but all Elflings learn of the legend when we're but six years old, in the creche. A Sword of the Ancients." The others turned towards him and Joel rubbed his face in agitation, drinking from his flagon before he spoke. "It won't be easy. A Sword of the Ancients, made of cold iron from the deepest mines of the land itself and forged in the molten pit of Mount Carrick. Tempered in waters from the River Mein's source perfumed with Crow's Beak flowers and Lion's Fang vine from the Forest of Glendr and the Marsh of Rovik and lastly burnished in the Breath and Magic of a Great Dragon."

Adam's gut twisted with each step and ingredient that Joel listed. Only the Dwarves of the great southern cities would have mines were cold iron would be found and Mount Carrick was a fool's journey on a horse. Only the sturdy saber cat mounts could handle the rocky crevices and deep trenches of Mount Carrick. The River Mein was in the far south, near the end of charted territories and guarded by vicious spirits of water called Ahuizotl, dog like creatures who drowned the unsuspecting and killed all who dared take water from the river.

He'd heard only that the Forest of Glendr and the Marsh of Rovik were near impossible to traverse and Lion's Fang had to be clipped from living plants known to tear full grown bears into little pieces. And a Great Dragon would be almost impossible to find. While Dragons themselves weren't terribly uncommon, a Great Dragon was a high Dragon who'd lived more than a thousand years, and undergone a magical metamorphosis. That it would be hard to find one would be an understatement.

Lawrence ruffled about in his hip pouch for a few minutes, setting several shrunken items on the table before he fished out a miniature parchment, waving his hand over it to reveal a map of the charted territories. Joel grabbed the ink well and quill and, ignoring Lawrence's squawk of protest, began circling locations.

"Our best bet will be to ride straight out of Roosthia to the southern cities, stopping in the Elvin city of Battal for armor and weapons, and then loop up to the River Mein. From there we can ride east to the Marsh of Rovic, and then north to the Forest of Glendr and Mount Carrick. As for the Great Dragon....we should ride to the Hunterlands, and speak with Dragon-Mage Kdin. If anyone can tell us where to find a Great Dragon, it's going to be a Dragon himself." There was a murmur of consent and they all settled back, silence descending on them. They were going to craft an ancient magical sword to kill of a wizard who'd made a pact with the disgraced Deity of Death.

Normal day, then, right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three weeks passed before a messenger arrived with a note from Lawrence. Everything was ready, shrunken and set in saddlebags and Adam purchases, two new cloaks and a sleeping roll, was waiting with them. All that was left to do was ride out. He sat at the table, fingers steepled in thought. Tonight. Tonight he would ride from the castle and set out with his friends on thier mission. He would leave behind everything he knew and everything he loved in a desperate bid to save it from being blown to bits.

He called for Kyle to bring him writing supplies and told him to bring dinner at the six evening bell instead of the seventh, as he wanted an early night. He would rest quietly in his room until the first bell of deep night, when none would be awake but the guards, and he would make his move. He accepted the writing supplies from Kyle and sat at his table well after the boy had come back to stoke and bank the fire and take away his dinner dishes. Finally, the letter to his dad complete, he signed his name in a shaky hand, blew on the ink until it dried and rolled it up and tied it with a small length of blue ribbon.

He climbed into bed and Mattimeo joined him and he drifted for a bit. Before he knew it he woke from his doze to hear the first bell, and he rose to his feet. Jerkily he pulled on his thick woolen pants and a hide jacket and his new elk hide boots. He motioned to Mattimeo for silence and poked his head out of his door. No one was there and he crept the rest of the way out and through the halls. Twice he had to duck behind a wall or partition with his dog as a patrol passed, and it took a bit more time than he was happy with, but he eventually made it to the stables. He made quick work of saddling Sorens and then led the horse by the reins out the back instead of the front. Kyle had been kind enough to inform him of a passage that servants and traders used to get animals in and out of the castle that was never guarded.

The tunnel leading through the castle's wall was dark and dank, and Sorens' ears brushed the very top of it, so Adam wanted nothing more than to get out of there. It took five minutes of hurried walking before cold moon light washed over him and he huffed a sigh of relief as he came to a deserted back road. He cast one last heavy glance at the castle before he swing himself into the saddle, kicked his horse's side gently, and went galloping away.


End file.
